


A Question. Many Answers

by Sylla_Headhunter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Keitor Month 2020, M/M, We have the power of Satan and Keitor on our side, half galra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-04-21 15:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22089676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylla_Headhunter/pseuds/Sylla_Headhunter
Summary: Day Two: Half GalraWhat does it mean to be half Galra?Keith has finally found people that might understand what he is going through. Asking a question, however, is hard and listening and understanding that not every answer might be his own, is another thing and it is very, very hard indeed.
Relationships: Keith/Lotor (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63
Collections: Keitor Month 2020





	A Question. Many Answers

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, brain, for providing me with an idea and letting me suffer for almost 3k words while the end of the second day grew ever nearer. I am never doing that again!  
jk, I probably will
> 
> Anyways! This kind of feels like I mashed two prompts together? I'm sorry! It just felt RIGHT, somehow. Don't @ me. I'm trying my best lmao

Keith looks at his hands again, blindingly white next to the dark expanse of the universe just outside the window. He has seen them turn purple, once in a lifetime, so long ago he can barely keep track of the days set between that incident and this peaceful floating around. Sincline’s machinery purrs softly underneath his feet, so much different to the Altean castle he is used to and it makes Keith relax, as if Sincline herself (Lotor is adamant on her pronouns and it has become a habit for him, if he is being honest) was part of his tribe now, lulling him to sleep with her gentle voice. Part of his … family.

Like all of them are.

It feels different from the bond he (very much reluctantly) developed with the other Paladins. More organic, even though he faced the same choices he had before. They are not family by blood, but they might as well be …

Well, Keith thinks dryly, if one takes them being partly from the same race as “being family by blood”, they actually are, come to think of it. All of them are part Galra, all of them are shaped (each in their own, unique way) by sharing blood with the most feared race in the entire known universe.

He stands up slowly, hands in his pockets, and makes his way to the training deck – the first part Zethrid had shown him when he arrived on Sincline, head held proud and high, laughter booming through the corridors. She loves her home with all of her heart even though Keith believes to know how hard it must have been to adapt to a home without Narti after everything that had happened. It shows itself in the way her eyes dim whenever they glide over empty space barely next to Lotor. It shows itself in the way Ezor grows quiet, her usual cheeriness evaporated, seemingly at random (although Keith feels like he is starting to get the hang of her moods). It shows itself in the way Axca holds her shoulders, hunched in on herself, whenever she is alone and feels like no one is looking at her. It shows itself in Lotor’s gaze as well, heavy with a sentiment that isn’t guilt, not entirely at least.

They all have wounds that need to heal, and the only thing they have on their side is time and themselves. Sometimes it’s enough.

And he himself? There are a few things he needs to come to term with as well, he reminds himself with a soft shrug, entering the training grounds. Unsurprisingly, Zethrid is already there and she is about to turn one of their training dummies into dust. Grinning, Keith shouts to her after making sure that he would be able to dodge any attack she might throw his way: “Have room for one more?”  
Zethrid grunts and whirls around, teeth bared in a horrible grimace – but the only thing Keith can see is the wild laughter blooming in her eyes.

“Sure, kit”, she laughs before launching herself at him. He barely whips his bayard out in time but there is a grin stretched across his face, mirroring her excitement and the way fire burns just underneath her skin, ready to be unleashed upon the world. Everything else becomes a blur until he is thrown across the training deck mere seconds later, or so it seems, and lands flat on his back with a small “oof”. Zethrid’s raucous laughter rings in his ears as she plucks him from the ground and dusts him off with punches that almost send him flying again.  
“Next time, kit”, she offers, and it makes something uncoil in his stomach enough for a question to pass through his wheezing lips.

“What does it feel like for you to be part Galra?”  
Zethrid blinks.

“Why the sudden interest?”   
Keith shrugs. Honestly, he’s not entirely sure himself.

Zethrid lets him go and he sways on his feet slightly before correcting his stand. She seems to think for a while, an uncharacteristically pregnant silence stretching between them, until she shrugs as well.

“I’m not sure. It’s just how I am. If being half Galra means to beat up even more people with these,” she pats her muscled arms, grinning, “I’m in. The Galra might think of us as monstrosities but the amount of soldiers I killed just proves to me how much they need a real soldier to keep them in line.”  
Keith can’t help but smile softly at that – it is an answer he should honestly have anticipated, so like Zethrid. She doesn’t care about the philosophical aspects to his question (the ones he is honestly surprised to care about himself), or at least it seems that way. Maybe it’s also a way of coping with the fact that two races likely pushed her out of their communities.

“Thanks, Zethrid.”  
She just growls good-humored and gives his shoulder an almost playful shove. “Another round, then?”  
He declines with an apologetic shrug, his restlessness not appeased. It is that question, driving him around in circles, as if Zethrid’s answer, so like herself and so unlike the one Keith still can’t find for himself, had opened his very own Pandora’s Box of pacing and fretting. It’s quite frankly, annoying. Not even Sincline’s humming calms him anymore, not even after he tries to use the breathing technique Axca tried to teach him.

“You’re giving me a headache.”  
Keith almost jumps out of his skin, hand clutching the smooth fabric across his chest. “Jesus, Axca,” he wheezes, “warn a man!”  
The woman, clad in her fighting gear as usual, cocks her head to one side. “I have only one name, as you are well aware. Or is this a title from your human world you are using with it?”  
Keith blinks and can’t help but chuckle under his breath. “It’s not. It’s… never mind. What are you doing here?”  
“I was about to ask you the same question”, she replies, “since I do have a reason for being here. I’m about to work on the engine. Sincline’s been moving a bit erratically over the last few doboshes and I intend to fix that. Do you want to help me?”  
“I’m not sure I can, actually”, he replies – opening his mouth to say something, anything else, and blurting out with the same question burning just underneath his skin.

“What does it feel like for you? Being … being part Galra, I mean.”  
Axca freezes, her face displaying none of her doubtlessly many emotions before she exhales with a soft sigh.

“That’s a personal question,” she says and Keith feels his cheeks heat despite his best efforts to not let them.   
“I know. I’m sorry,” he starts but Axca shakes her head softly.

“Don’t be. It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting you to have any sort of .. interest in that.”  
She considers her answer carefully apparently before opening her mouth once more.

“I do not care much for any of my biological races. Both of them have chosen to abandon me in the hours of my greatest need. Both have hated or humiliated me, for not adhering to their standards. As much as they define me biologically, they do not define me as a whole. It … has taken me a while to learn that.”  
Keith nods slowly – he doesn’t dare answer, he has no idea if Axca is already done and he doesn’t want to interrupt, her words somehow filling the blanks he had been missing from Zethrid’s answer. It is not enough, not nearly, but there is an end to the void he feels yawning inside of him on days like this.

“Ah … thanks”, he finally does say, after Axca shoots him a neutrally interested look. “That was ...thanks.”  
A small smile appears on her lips. “You’re welcome. Try and come to terms with it.”  
And with that she vanishes, leaving Keith with the curious emotion of not knowing what to say to the fact that she is, well, concerned about him. At least slightly.

He doesn’t find the third person on the ship until she decides to find him and fall right on top of him, startling a shout out of him. Ezor giggles and runs her fingers through his hair – she likes to do that and he doesn’t mind, honestly. It’s even kind of relaxing, if he were to be honest, although Lotor is the only one to know to what degree it is able to reduce him to a soft puddle, and he is glad for that.

“Keittth”, she draws out his name, still grinning. “What are you doing here! How did you know I was already this bored out of my mind!”  
“I didn’t”, he finally manages to get out, Ezor now sitting on his chest with her legs crossed and giggling at him. He’s glad she’s not rocking back and forth, if he is being honest, for he is certain his lungs couldn’t take that.

“I just came here by accident.”  
She grins down at him. “Suuure. So you weren’t looking for me?” She waggles her fingers at him. “You’re a naughty boy, Keith, for lying like that!”  
He would like to laugh now but that requires too much air. “Ezor … move?”  
“Oh!” She hops down from him, her grin still as wide and cheerful as before. “Sorry about that.”  
She’s not really but Keith doesn’t mind. He’s just glad to finally breathe again properly.

“So. Why are you looking for me?”, she asks after exactly one tick of sitting still. Keith grins.

“So patient today”, he can’t help himself, getting a look at her blue tongue sticking out to him, before his good mood retreats, leaving him with the anxiety from before and the question carving its way onto his tongue.

“You’re … I mean, you’re half Galra too, aren’t you, Ezor? What does that… I mean, what does that mean to you?”  
It may be the first time he has actually seen her hold still for more than a fleeting moment, her eyes fixed on him with a strange emotion hiding inside of them, until she shakes her head as if she had been doused with water instead of his question.

“You know, I did not expect that kind of question, if I’m being honest.” She laughs nervously and scratches her chin. “What it means? It doesn’t _mean _anything, not really. I mean, look at me.” She takes a bit of her colored skin between her fingers and pulls it along.

“I don’t look Galra, not one bit. Maybe the eyes but I bet you could find another race just as easily. I never felt like a Galra, you know? I still don’t. I’m _me. _I’m one of us and that’s where I belong. Everyone is different here and that’s fine. I mean, you don’t look like a Galra either.” She shrugs and her words, easily said, seem to pierce at Keith’s own armor like a sharp thorn grazing his side.

“Yeah”, he mutters, trying desperately to not let it show, and Ezor brightens up once again. 

“See? That’s what I mean. It doesn’t matter!” She shoots to her feet. “Was that all?”  
Keith nods, letting her help him up and vanishing almost literally into thin air.

There is only one person left on this ship, only one person he might be able to ask if his heart weren’t so exhausted already. He can’t bring himself to utter the words, the burning need for having his question answered somehow doused in the icy water of answers he is now mulling over on his own, sitting on his and Lotor’s bed, Lotor’s blanket draped across his body. The familiar smell tries to calm him down, like it always does, but it fails to work this time and Keith is left with his erratic thoughts.

He is part of a race that has hurt his … friends. And while, sure, not every Galra they have ever met had been the same, if he is being honest (and he tries his damn e dest to be ). Not every Galra is an evil monster –  _he _ isn’t a monster either.

Is he?

There is a soft rapping just next to his head and a melodious voice fills the silence afterwards.

“Keith? My dear, are you alright?”  
How is it that Lotor’s voice alone helps his shoulders to uncoil, his heart to slow down and his breath to come more easily? Keith almost dares to free himself from the blanket encompassing him right now. He settles for something between a nod and a shake of his head, and feels the mattress dip as Lotor sits down next to him. It doesn’t take long for him to place on of his hands on Keith’s shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into it until Keith melts into his touch, his head sinking down onto Lotor’s own shoulder. A soft sound escapes him and he feels rather than hears Lotor chuckle, a quiet rumble shaking his entire body.

“There, there”, he teases, genuine care in his voice, “Don’t be shy and come out, Keith, dear. I do love to see your face whenever you are like this.”  
Keith allows for the blanket to drop, blinking up rather owlishly. Lotor’s face is graced by a smile so endearing it makes Keith’s heart skip a beat. There is worry, concealed inside his dark eyes, and love and a promise he can’t even put into words but it does loosen his tongue to finally blurt something out he should have probably asked ages ago.

“What does it mean to be half Galra?”  
Lotor’s hand freezes for a second, his brow furrowed in sudden thought, before his hand picks up the pace once more, digging a bit more firmly into Keith’s shoulder until he feels like putty.

“Is that what has been worrying you for so long”, the Prince murmurs. It is not a question but Keith nods nonetheless. Lotor’s brow furrows even more and Keith is tempted to reach up there and smooth it out with his fingers. If only he could move any part of his body though.

“Listen to me, Keith.”  
Keith’s somewhat lazy gaze drifts a bit lower and he almost startles from Lotor’s shoulder. His eyes meet his consort’s and they are filled to the brim with an emotion Keith can’t name until Lotor finally opens his mouth.

“Listen to me”, he repeats, softer this time. “This is a question a lot of the half Galran I have met over the deca-phoebs are asking themselves for the rest of their life. It is not something I can help you with in its entirety but know this: not once have I been ashamed of myself for what I am.”  
Keith’s mouth dries. “Not once?”, he whispers, awed. Lotor nods and there is something unbearably soft in his face as he reaches down with his other hand to cup Keith’s face with it.

“Not once”, he repeats. “For I am not my people, Keith. And neither are you. Would you do me the favor of remembering that?”   
He nuzzles Keith’s brow with his own, their breaths mingling between them. “You, Keith Kogane, are a blessing I got to meet and I wouldn’t want to miss one day I could rather spend on your side than be anywhere else. You are not defined by your blood. Neither of us is. The world might disagree but I have always found myself prone to disagree with them as well. Let them have their narrow-minded bigotry. I get to have _you._”  
Keith has never blushed so hard in his entire life, he is sure of it, and he surges up almost frantically, trying to reach Lotor, trying to reach the man who has laid himself bare in front of him countless times, whose words are able to reach him in his darkest moments, and captures his lips with a searing and yet somehow shy kiss that takes his breath away.

It’s not an answer, not entirely. It’s not going to quell his desire for even  _more, _ to make sense of whatever he is. But it is enough for now.


End file.
